The Murderer's Tale
by SanguinarianThorns
Summary: No one really knows how Lucien Lachance came to be a Speaker for the Black Hand... until now, that is. A story wrought with Morag Tong spies, betrayal and plot twists... this is the tale of Lucien Lachance.
1. The Death Of Lucas LaCroix

The Murderer's Tale

Chapter 1: The Death Of Lucas LaCroix

"_Change is the constant, the signal of rebirth, the egg of the phoenix."_

_--Christina Baldwin_

_Morndas, Sun's Dusk 15, 3E 421_

Listener Vicente Valtieri handed the red-haired woman a piece of brown parchment. The light from the torch brackets of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, the red-haired woman's sanctuary, cast shadows upon the two members of The Black Hand. Red eyes met glittering brown and the red-haired woman whispered haughtily,

"New recruit?"

Vicente nodded, rubbing the fabric of his black gloves. This would be the last time he could wear the robes of the Black Hand, and order around the Speakers as if they were his own children. He replied, pinching the velvet fabric,

"A boy by the name of Lucas LaCroix. Long black hair, brown eyes, around fourteen-years-old. He murdered his father in their Manor here in Cheydinhal. I shouldn't have to tell you this, Speaker Brigette. It's on the paper, as you well know."

"Of course," Lielle Brigette rubbed a dent in the parchment flat with her thumb. "I know this. I meant no offense Listener." Lielle bit her lip before she talked herself into an early grave. Vicente was well known to bury the Speakers he disliked in paperwork and Lielle had enough on her hands to last her a lifetime.

"Well then," Vicente pushed past her, casting a red tapestry on a pillar a bored look. His throat caught as he smelled fresh blood. A Murderer had slit his thumb on a piece of paper and swore. He needed to feed, and soon. Vicente looked over his black-swathed shoulder at Lielle and she saw the hungry look in his eyes and shivered. Dark red eyes became scarlet.

"You know what to do. Head to The Manor, and be quick. I doubt the boy wishes to remain in that Manor for any longer."

Vicente left through the Black Door, his shoulders rigid as Lielle watched him pointedly out of her glittering brown eyes. Sighing, she glanced at the Murderer who was now sucking on his thumb, staunching the wound. She snapped, and the Murderer whipped full around to look at her,

"Get a bandage for that, Greywyn and be quick. We don't need you bleeding all over our only copy of_ Brothers In Darkness."_

Greywyn, a skinny Dunmer mumbled and tripped over the chair as he hurried towards the kitchens, nursing his thumb as if it were a cup of good mead. Staring after the Dunmer, Lielle shook her head and walked towards the rusty ladder of the Sanctuary and began up it with cat-like grace.

Throwing open the equally rusty grate, the rush of cold wind blasted itself into Lielle Brigette's face and she lifted the Black Hand hood over her head, balancing on the ladder so she did not fall. Climbing out of the ivy-covered well, Lielle glanced around before applying a Moonshadow spell to herself. Slowly but surely, she disappeared until the only thing that would have made her appearance known, was the heavy breaths that came from her mouth. She smiled, tugging the hood over her head as her boots crunched on the thin layer of snow.

Moonshadow came simply to Lielle Brigette. She was born under the sign of The Shadow and was able to be invisible at the age of seven. Now, she frowned, sighing as her spelled boots left no trace of footprints but the soft _crunch _as she walked was enough to make her grimace. Her boots may have been spelled to leave no trace of her comings and goings in the snow or mud, but they still made sound.

She was as unnoticeable as a shadow, but as loud as the Cheydinhal Guard that was coughing as he guarded the East Gate. She floated past him, rolling her eyes as she passed several shops and the boisterous, smoke-filled _Newlands Lodge. _LaCroix Manor wasn't hard to miss. It was a big, regal and oriental three-story Manor…

With many dirty secrets and rumors surrounding it.

Lielle approached the Manor as it sat, squeezed in between the Mage's Guild and another, much smaller house. The black iron fence creaked ominously as the Speaker approached and Lielle calmly fortified her Moonshadow spell, the silvery blue wave of magicka that erupted from her palm giving small respite from the quick breaths that escaped her nose.

Glancing over her shoulder she watched the coughing guard as he began to pick his nose with a chainmail gloved hand. Lielle snorted, brought a hand up to her lips and quickly looked around, making sure no one had heard her. A beggar that slept outside LaCroix Manor stirred and snored in his sleep and Lielle bit her lip, a thousand what ifs? running through her mind. Two standing out clearly in her mind.

What if the Guard realized she was here? They were trained to know the midnight-colored robes of The Black Hand. What if this Lucas LaCroix tried to kill her? She was certainly at risk, all she had for defense was her Blade Of Woe, and the newest initiate's.

Shaking off these meaningless scruples, Lielle closed her dark brown eyes and sighed. 1… 2… 3… her eyes snapped open. This time, the brown mingled with purple and the Manor's mahogany walls faded slightly, revealing a single, misty purple cloud in the distance as Lielle tipped her head upward to look at the third story.

Erik LaCroix and his three mistresses' were dead, and all that remained was Erik's single son; Lucas LaCroix. The Dark Brotherhood's target for initiation. Lielle pushed past the creaking cast iron fence and looked over her shoulder. The-Guard-Who-Picks-His-Nose was now leaning against the East Gate, snoozing on the job. Lielle opened the sandalwood door quietly and breathed in the scent of iron-like blood. She closed her eyes, and closed the door behind her with a barely noticeable _click._

The sight that greeted her half-opened eyes was indeed gruesome, but it was not enough to make Lielle lurch. But her stomach did a somersault in its fleshy cell.

Erik LaCroix hung from the rafters of the beautiful Manor by his ankles, swinging ominously as the winter wind blasted through the door and past Lielle. Two of his mistresses, blond Imperials sat on a tipped over couch, their mangled throats slit. A third woman, a long-haired brunette Breton was strung across the stairs, her decapitated head sitting on the top of the fireplace next to a broken vase. Her ankle peeked out of the stairs.

Lielle bristled as she walked towards the swinging figure of Erik LaCroix. His throat had been slit from ear-to-ear and he stared at her through mint-green, shocked eyes that bore no light that a living man might've had. Lielle ran a finger down his angular jaw. Whispering, almost lovingly,

"Beautiful… such wonderful handiwork…" The corners of Lielle's mouth twitched, as if she were fighting a smile. Curling her long, slender fingers into the roots of Erik LaCroix's greasy hair, Lielle cooed, puckering her lips,

"Yes… quite beautiful… A fitting death for one so wicked…"

Lielle released the roots and poked the area between the dead man's eyes with two fingers and watched as he swung back and forth, the rope protesting as the lump of a man weighed it down. Lielle turned on her heel and faced the stairs, where the decapitated brunette's ankle was still visible in the corner. Her brown eyes glanced at the head on the fireplace and crinkled as she silently laughed.

What do you know? A Murderer has a sense of humor.

Walking past the pale, skimpily clothed body, Lielle's footsteps creaked as she walked up the old stairs. Stopping midway, she closed her eyes once more and cast a Detect Life spell. The purple misty cloud stirred slightly and Lielle sighed. Even a Speaker of The Black Hand, a trained and masterful assassin was not a shadow. She could not escape sound, even if she could blend into darkness.

Quietly, her breath catching in her throat at every little sound, Lielle Brigette continued up the two flights of stairs until she reached the third story. There was now an adjourning hallway for her to walk down, with several bedrooms branching out, and a single door was at the end of the hallway. Detect Life was cast again and Lielle could see clearly, the purple cloud situated behind the lone door.

Lielle stifled a laugh with her hand. Lucas LaCroix had the gall to sleep in his father's bedroom after killing him. Continuing down the hall, Lielle gripped the handle of her Blade Of Woe cautiously as the purple cloud began to stir even more. He had slept soundly, but Lielle's racket had entered his ears and invaded his dreams. Lielle opened the door and shut it behind her, taking in the sleeping body of the teenager before her as he tossed, turned and whimpered in his sleep.

Lucas LaCroix's eyes snapped open and Lielle removed the Moonshadow spell, the crackling of magicka echoing off of the tan walls of the bedroom. Lucas threw off the covers and sat erectly on the bed, a steel dagger, concealed underneath the pillow, was held eye-level as his brown eyes locked with Lielle's. A drop of sweat dribbled down his forehead as he regarded Lielle with a look of fear.

"You sleep soundly for a murderer, Lucas LaCroix." Lielle's brown eyes narrowed as the other set widened in fear. Lielle smirked, her dimpled smile not visible to the poor, frightened boy on the king-sized bed, who took it as a smirk in the shadows. Another drop of sweat dripped between his eyes and Lucas wiped it with a black sleeve.

"W-Who are you?" He asked, the hand which brandished the silver dagger shook, wavering as a testament to his fear and Lielle's smile thinned. Lucas continued on, ranting like a madman,

"I… I didn't mean to kill him, I swear!"

The aged Speaker moved noiselessly towards a wardrobe in the corner, where a tray of Cheap Wine and a bowl of strawberries sat. Picking a strawberry up, Lielle licked it and brought it to her mouth, chewing the thin end. She looked to Lucas, who watched her as if she were Mehrunes Dagon himself and chuckled darkly,

"Oh?" Removing the stopped from the wine, Lielle poured herself a glass of cheap wine. "I believe you very well intended to kill him, Lucas LaCroix."

Lielle strode towards the bed, her robes rippling as she walked; her eyes never left Lucas', until Lucas jumped backwards, landing on the floor with a loud _thud!_

"Stay. Away. From. Me!" Lucas yelled, emphasizing every word as if Lielle could not understand simple Imperial. Lielle looked at him simply and chuckled, sipping her wine and grimacing at the thick, disgusting taste. Lucas raised the dagger above his head, looking awkward on the ground. Lielle sighed, sipped the wine through pursed lips and spoke,

"Come now? You wouldn't dare harm me, would you? I simply have a proposition to make, nothing more, nothing less."

At this, Lucas lowered the dagger, keeping it to his chest and eyed the aged woman wearily. It was here that Lielle drunk in the appearance of Lucas LaCroix. Jet-black hair, the color of a moonless, cloudless midnight was drawn back in an aristocratic ponytail. His skin was pale and flawless and Lucas LaCroix's almond-shaped eyes were dark brown and glittered in the pale moonlight from the window behind Lielle Brigette.

Lucas LaCroix was also regarding Lielle Brigette. She was tall and slender, with short red hair and brown eyes that stared back at him. Wrinkles and laugh lines marred her face and the two sat in complete silence, as if they were wolves prepared to tear each other apart.

"Silence is what you prefer then?" Lielle asked finally, gripping the clay goblet of cheap wine. "As do I, Dear Brother, as do I. For is not silence the symphony of death, the orchestration…"

Lucas' eyes widened at the last bit.

"Of Sithis himself?"

Lielle looked down her long and pointed nose to stare at Lucas. His brown eyes went from quizzical to fearful, and he brought the steel dagger to his eyes, shoulders rigid and tense. Lielle stifled her laughter, but managed a smirk that made Lucas shiver in his noble, black robes.

"Y-You're from the Dark Brotherhood… you've come… for me now…" Lucas blanched, Lielle chuckled,

"Yes, your father had a certain taste for… revenge I could say? But I have not come for your life, Lucas LaCroix. Your father cannot contact us from beyond the grave."

At those reassuring words, Lucas lowered the dagger once more. But his eyes still glanced warily into Lielle's aged face, and Lielle took a swig from the goblet once more. Grimacing this time at the burning sensation of alcohol as it ran down her throat.

"You still haven't answered my question." Lucien muttered dejectedly, his eyes cast to the mahogany floor. Lielle raised her eyebrows and quipped,

"Haven't I?"

"Who are you and what do you want from me?"

Lielle crossed her arms, glowering at the boy that cowered below her. Had she not been sent to recruit him, to bring him into the ranks of the most notorious assassin's guild in the world, she would've spent not a second more listening to his rebellious tone and slit his throat. Ear-to-ear. But, swallowing her pride, one of the only things Lielle Brigette had left, she replied solemnly,

"My name is Speaker Lielle Brigette, and as you well know, Lucas, I am a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. As for what _I _want from you? Nothing." Lucas inched closer to the mahogany floor as she said this. "But It does not matter what I want, Not. At. All." He inched even closer as her voice became harsh and husky.

"Our Unholy Matron, Our Mother, She-Who-Breathed-Darkness-Into-Us, She Whom We Suckle Malice And Pain From, The Night Mother, It is what She wants that matters, Lucas. And She wants… you. And your allegiance to The Dark Brotherhood."

It was Lucas' turn to stare at Lielle. To Lielle, it was unnerving to have those two dark brown eyes stare her down, observing every harsh line etched in the older woman's face. But since he spoke no questions, and instead kept them in check, as a very good little sibling should, Lielle continued, wrapping her cloak in her hands,

"She watched as you killed, you see. Watched as you killed the man you may have once been proud to call Father. Watched as you took revenge for your birth mother. And. She. Is. Pleased." Lielle emphasized every word as if wanting to drill this information into Lucas' dark-haired head. Lucas observed her, and then stared angrily, darkly in fact, at the floor.

"Your… Your Unholy Matron wants me to join your ranks… your… Family." The last word seemed almost tough for Lucas to say, but he stared into Lielle's eyes, dark brown meeting dark brown and Lielle nodded, her hood dipping slightly over her facial features.

"Do me a favor, Speaker Brigette." Lielle glared at the boy. How _dare _he ask a favor of her, no matter how trivial it could be! Her, A dangerous Speaker Of The Black Hand! Lielle watched as he picked himself up from the floor, dressed in black, expensive satin. And the Speaker swallowed her pride once more,

"Yes, Lucas LaCroix?"

"Don't. Call. Me. That."

Lielle cocked her head in confusion as the words spilt from Lucas' lips. He stared straight into her eyes with a haunted, piercing stare and stated, calmly, angrily, watching Lielle through haunted, murky eyes,

"It's Lachance now. Lucien Lachance. And he is nothing but a puppet for your Unholy Matron."

Lielle bristled and glowered at Lucien Lachance. Snatching both the piece of parchment from her robes, she thrust them into the tense teenager's arms with such force that it almost knocked him down to the hard wood floors once more. Lucien stared into her eyes, afraid he may have upset her.

"Inside of the Imperial City there are two clans, the Sintav Clan, and the Atius Clan. Now, Cyronin Sintav wishes for the death of one Anya Atius. Kill her, and plant this note," Lielle said, dangerously calmly, she was still angry over what Lucien said. Puppet? Puppet!? "And your initiation as a _puppet, _will be complete!"

With an angry glower, Lielle Brigette, Speaker For The Black Hand, disappeared before Lucien Lachance's very eyes.

And thus, began a series of events that would shape the future Speaker's life and death.

---X---X---X---X---X---X---X---X---

_My dear Cyronin,_

_As I write this, my husband, Helvo, is coming to murder me. I cannot say much, only that I love you and I very much wish that you could join me in the afterlife. Helvo comes for my head, and I can only express that I am truly sorry our affair must end this way._

_Yours forever,_

_Anya Atius_

---X---X---X---X---X---X---X---X----X----

**Well, I have decided to write a backstory for Lucien Lachance. I have everything planned out for this story, and I assure you, there will be lots and lots of bloodshed, laughs, romance and mystery along the way. Now, I hope you guys can graciously await the second chapter, which will chronicle the initiation of Lucien Lachance and the death of one Anya Atius.**

**REFERENCES**

**The Idea for Lucas LaCroix becoming Lucien Lachance came from watching Sweeney Todd, in which a man by the name of Benjamin Barker is sent to prison for fifteen years hellbent on revenge against the man who falsely imprisoned him there, Judge Turpin. So he comes back as Sweeney Todd, a mass murderer who is later known as the Demon Barber Of Fleet Street. Thus, Lucas LaCroix becomes Lucien Lachance.**

**The idea of using the feuding Atius and Sintav clans came from the fact that they aren't involved in any quests. Cyronin Sintav and Helvo Atius are real NPCS but Anya Atius is not, as she must be killed and this takes place quite a few years before the events of Oblivion.**

**As always, special thanks to anyone who reviews my stories, and to Oblivion Wiki, for being the best Oblivion Encyclopedia I could ask for.**


	2. A Chance Encounter

The Murderer's Tale

Chapter 2: A Chance Encounter

"_Sometimes… your closest friend is your worst enemy."_

_--Jason Fong_

_Turdas, Sun's Dusk, 16, 3E 421_

_I killed my father and a Dark Brotherhood Speaker has asked me to join them. I killed my father and a Dark Brotherhood Speaker has asked me to join them. I killed my father…_

The same thought had repeated itself in Lucien's head even as he rested near the Nibenay Basin, impatiently tossing a shiny red apple between both of his hands, waiting for the pangs of hunger to kick in so that he could eat, without feeling like a pig. Angrily, staring into the blazes of the fire he had started, Lucien reminded himself that LaCroix manor was also aflame, and it would soon be reduced to burning, crispy ashes.

Because as LaCroix Manor became destroyed, so did the life Lucien used to lead as Lucas LaCroix, and as a phoenix rose from the ashes, Lucien Lachance rose from the ashes of Lucas LaCroix. This was Lucien's rebirth… as a killer, as a pawn for the Dark Brotherhood's "Unholy Matron". With a fleeting sense of glee in his heart, Lucien wondered how his father felt, as his father burned in hell.

"_Betrayed, probably."_ Was the thing that came to Lucien's mind first. And he smirked. _"Well, he betrayed me first by killing mum. He deserves that sense of betrayal that haunted me for most of my childhood."_

In truth, Lucien didn't dislike his father.

No, he _hated_ his father.

When Lucien was seven, his mother, a pretty, red-haired woman by the name of Lettie LaCroix nee Brelleg had mysteriously disappeared. Lucien had thought nothing very mysterious of it at first. As a child, he had heard many stories of mothers just up and abandoning their children if they were very bad. So at that time, Lucien had just assumed it was his fault.

How very wrong he was.

_One night, on a Morndas just like the one today: Snowy, cloudy, Lucien's father, Erik had come home in a drunken stupor from the Newlands Lodge, like he usually did, and sat himself on one of the velvet couches in LaCroix Manor. Lucien was also there however, reading a book and snacking on a piece of mutton._

_The mead had loosened Erik LaCroix's tongue considerably. So it was then, slurring and swearing and spitting at his eldest and only son, that Erik LaCroix had spoken the single sentence that defined his fate. One sentence, just one, had made Lucien hate his father more than he could ever hate anything in Tamriel,_

"_I killed yer mum." Erik LaCroix whispered, his voice slurred from copious amounts of mead. His pale green eyes searched Lucien's dark brown for a moment, and, satisfied with the horrified look on Lucien's face, leaned backwards into the velvet couch, snatching a tumbler of Tamika Wine from the floor beside the couch._

_It was then, that Lucien's hatred and disgust for his father began._

_It was then, that Lucien plotted revenge._

And, Lucien thought, leaning against the crook of a tree so he was more comfortable, it was also then that the Dark Brotherhood marked him as a possible inductee. As the pangs of hunger finally reached his stomach, Lucien took a bite out of the shiny red apple, and nestled into the crook of the tree so he could settle and sleep underneath the constellations above.

And, for some reason, The Shadow shone more brightly in the sky than any other constellation. The Shadow lighted a path to assassin-hood, so that the young, dark-haired teenager below would know that The Shadow was watching out for him, waiting for dawn so Lucien could plan to end a life.

---X---X---X---X---X---X---

Lielle Brigette moved swiftly through the decrepit inside of the Abandoned House in Cheydinhal. A mass of scrolls and papers were in her arms as she pressed a hand to the sanguine glow of The Black Door. A voice, icy and dry as fresh parchment, rang through the hall in which Lielle and the door sat,

"What… is the color, of night?" The Black Door asked, as Lielle struggled to keep the rolls of parchment in her arms.

"Sanguine, my brother." _(No, Black obviously. Lielle thought sarcastically to herself) _Lielle answered, muttering it under her angry breath. Sometimes, the Breton Nightblade thought the door purposely gave her a hard time, as she knew the spirit encased within The Black Door knew the robes of the Black Hand well.

Nevertheless, The Black Door swung open wide and spoke once more, the voice sending chills down Lielle's spine,

"Welcome… home."

Of course, it was nothing compared to what she did when she saw who was standing in the middle of the Common Room, watching Lielle with resigned eyes. Lielle dropped the rolls of parchment in shock and cursed loudly as the parchments scattered across the flagstone floors.

"Watch your tongue, Speaker Brigette," Listener Vicente Valtieri said, shooting the Breton a toothy smile as she regarded the vampire darkly. Lielle bent to retrieve the rolls of parchment, mumbling angrily under her breath. Vicente's smile widened,

"Really? I do not think I would make good 'leather boots', Brigette, as you so bluntly mumbled. I cannot turn into bats, you see."

Picking up the last of the scrolls, Lielle glared at the Listener, her dark brown eyes narrowing, reflecting the flames from one of the torch brackets. This was when Lielle couldn't help but notice that the Common Room was empty, a strange thing indeed. Vicente's smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had come,

"I've sent the rest of the Sanctuary on Contracts so we may speak privately. Black Hand business, after all."

Lielle nodded, and gestured with her head to the rolls of parchment in her arms, "I must give these to Uvani first. Business is booming, you could say." And with that, Lielle slunk past Vicente, her cloak billowing at her heels.

"Actually, Brigette, you can give them to me." And Lielle stopped, turned on her heel and looked at Vicente quizzically.

"Last I checked, Listener Valtieri, Alval Uvani was the Executioner for the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, not you." Vicente turned round to look at Lielle with a smirk on his gaunt, pale features.

"This matter is why I came to speak with you, Brigette." Seeing that Vicente was finally getting to the point of his little visit, Lielle stared back at him and gave a curt nod, granting him leave to continue.

"I have retired from my duties as Listener, Brigette."

Lielle's face was shocked, and her mouth parted slightly.

"B-But you've been the Listener for a century! You cannot retire now, since you've been Listener, business has been better than ever!"

Vicente nodded and crossed his arms, sighing,

"I have been Listener for a century. This is precisely why I have retired, and this is more convenient anyway, as Speaker Ungolim has decided to take Uvani as his Silencer."

Lielle snorted, "Good for him." Lielle had always disliked both of them. And the two of them together…. Ugh, that only spelt trouble. "So, you will be Cheydinhal's Executioner for now?" Lielle inquired, looking straight into Vicente's ruby eyes. Vicente smiled, revealing two pointy, sharp fangs,

"Indeed. Bashnag gro-Muzgob is more than capable of handling the Listener duties."

Lielle's eyebrow twitched and she stifled a dark laugh. Instead, she quipped sarcastically,

"Oh yes, that great big green moron is more than capable of doing anything that doesn't require holding a quill. Unless that quill happens to be a tool for picking one's nose…" To Lielle's surprise, Vicente laughed and stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

"Indeed, now, give me those papers, I have Contracts to set up for… our newest initiate."

---X----X---X---X---X---X---X---

The sun had just risen above the hills when Lucien had continued his way down the Blue Road. He mentally chided himself for not stealing a horse on his… flight from Cheydinhal. It would've cut the tip to the Imperial City by quite a few hours, and it most certainly wouldn't have been as tiring as the hike Lucien was taking at the moment.

Above, birds beat their wings and cawed, circling the area around the Nibenay Basin and Lucien froze, standing stock still… something had frightened the birds…

Something _alive._

Unsheathing the silver dagger on his hip, Lucien continued to walk along the road, concealing the dagger within his robes as his ears searched for any more movement besides the sound of cawing from the birds above. It was then, that a twig snapped somewhere in the forest, and a little Breton boy fled from the shadows of the trees and stood behind Lucien, clutching to Lucien's pant leg.

Lucien was frozen, and he stared at the boy. Dark brown eyes met mud-colored, and the boy mouthed,

"Help."

"Oi! You there, pretty boy!"

Lucien snapped his head to look at the second figure that rose from the shadows of the trees. It was a Khajiit Highwayman, and he looked pretty angry, with his ears flat against his head, his claws flashing out. It seemed that this Khajiit abandoned weapons, and opted for his own… natural uses. Lucien stepped protectively in front of the young boy, who quivered in his boots.

Flashing the silver dagger from his robes, Lucien sneered,

"What do you want from this child? Can you not see he obviously has no money?" Indeed, the younger boy was dressed in rags and was carrying a basket of food that he had obviously stolen from the Highwayman. Unfortunately, Lucien's eyebrows stitched together as the boy's grip tightened, the boy was caught.

The Khajiit flexed his claws and the two assailants began to circle each other, as if they were wolves prepared to tear each other a part. The Khajiit rasped, licking his sharp teeth with a flat tongue,

"Give me the boy so I can cut off his hands… thievery is not… tolerated. You should know this, nobleman."

Gold eyes met dark brown, and Lucien bristled at being called nobleman. Chuckling, Lucien quipped,

"A nobleman no more… but I am a murderer."

The adrenaline rush was great. The Khajiit's eyes widened as Lucien pounced forward, moving smoothly as if he were one with his dagger, the small boy had stepped back a bit, and clutched the stolen basket to his little chest.

The two assailants were flung to the ground as Lucien slashed at the Khajiit's shoulder, cutting tawny fur with ease. Lucien hissed as the Khajiit's claws slashed open his stomach and he stepped off of the Khajiit, scrabbling into the small boy as he clutched his torn stomach. Angrily, Lucien jumped forward, and brought the knife across the Khajiit's throat, slashing the jugular vein. As a result, blood erupted onto Lucien's pale features, and he fell onto the floor alongside the Khajiit.

The Khajiit was dead, even before his muscular body hit the ground, and Lucien watched through heavy-lidded eyes as the boy dropped the basket of food and ran towards him. The boy crouched beside him and placed his hands on Lucien's torn stomach, muttering under his breath, the incantation for The Heal Minor Wounds Spell.

In what seemed like seconds, Lucien smiled as he felt the warmth of mending wounds and sat up. Mud-colored eyes met dark brown once more, and the boy grinned.

"Thanks! I didn't know what could've 'appened if that big oaf got me!" He flicked his head towards the dead body of the Khajiit, scattering golden brown strands over his tan skin. Lucien coughed and chuckled,

"Perhaps this will teach you not to steal…" Lucien looked at the boy for a name, and the boy's mouth went into a little, comical 'o' shape.

"Oh!" The Breton boy said, grinning. "My name's Mathieu! Mathieu Bellamont! I'm from Anvil, you know, but me mum wanted to visit the Nibenay Basin to… y'know…"

Mathieu's face looked grim and he looked away,

"Get away from me dad… ta get away from all that... y'know…"

Lucien looked away as well. He could easily relate to that, so he said quietly,

"Yeah… I know."

Mathieu turned his head to look back at Lucien, a wide grin on his boyish face,

"Hey! You never told me your name! So, Mr…"

"Lachance. Lucien Lachance."

"Right," Mathieu looked at him quizzically, and Lucien knew he was wondering why an Imperial had a Breton name. Well, Lucien wasn't going to tell him a thing.

"So, Mr. Lachance, do you need a horse, me mum has an extra one. Found this pretty palomino in the woods one day, you see… And, well, it's the least I can give you for keepin' me outta trouble." Mathieu shot a heated glare at the Khajiit again.

Lucien's eyebrows retreated into his bangs and he almost hugged Mathieu. Lucien grinned and Mathieu grinned back, clutching his ragged knees with both hands.

"I'd love that, Mathieu!"

---X---X---X---X---X---X---X---

**And so, the plot thickens.**

**Thanx to all those who reviewed! And Miss Lieress, I miss Divine too, very terribly much. But this story's got me eyes now, so I can't do much.**

**HINTS**

**There is a hint to one of this story's biggest plot twists, you just have to find it. :-D HINT: It's an anagram.**

**REFERENCES**

**Lucien and Mathieu- One of the things I swore when I started writing this story was that Mathieu was to meet Lucien before his mother's murder. And thus, the scene where Mathieu is attacked by a Khajiit Highwayman was born. Somehow, I like this idea, and this isn't the end of Mathieu in this story. He's a clever little kid that pops up now and then, and Lucien is going to make a lot of visits to Anvil in the near future.**

**English phrases- Yes, me, mum, oaf… lots of English phrases. ME LIKE .**


	3. A Smile So Reminescent

The Murderer's Tale

Chapter 3: A Smile So Reminiscent

_Where did we ever get the crazy idea that in order to make children do better, first we have to make them feel worse? Think of the last time you felt humiliated or treated unfairly. Did you feel like cooperating or doing better?_

_Jane Nelson_

_Turdas, Sun's Dusk, 16, 3E 421_

One thing Lucien had not thought he would've been doing, when he murdered his father, was that he would very soon be lead towards a river within the Nibenay Basin by a boy he hardly even knew; who had promised him with a horse that could get him to the Imperial City faster. But, he was doing that exact same thing at this very moment, and now, he emerged from a sea of trees with Mathieu clutching to his hand as if it were a shiny, round septim.

"There's me mum, over there." Mathieu let go of Lucien's long, slender fingers and pointed towards a figure that was sitting by the river, washing clothes. Mathieu's mother was a pretty, dark-haired and voluptuous woman with a calming sweet smile. But Lucien felt a lump in his throat as he watched Aurelia Bellamont from afar.

He was greatly reminded of his own mother. That calm, sweet smile… Lucien had to close his eyes and clench his fists to prevent himself from running up to Mathieu's mother and hugging her tightly. But even as his eyes plummeted into the darkness, he could still see Lettie LaCroix's pure, porcelain face and her dimpled smile.

"Mr. Lucien?" Lucien's eyes opened once more to see Mathieu's mother watching him and her son from afar. Mathieu was tugging his sleeve, a worried expression on his round face. "Are you okay?" Lucien smiled and replied, watching Mathieu's mother out of the corner of his eye,

"Yes, I'm fine, Mathieu. Come, let's meet your mother." Mathieu grinned once more and Lucien refrained from ruffling his hair, as his father had once done to him so very long ago. Mathieu ran directly towards his mother and jumped into her outstretched arms, she was smiling again and the lump caught in Lucien's throat as he walked rigidly towards her.

"And you are?" Lucien smiled at her defensive tone; it was obvious she didn't trust him and even Mathieu screwed up his face at her, his sandy eyebrow's stitching together.

"Mommy!" Mathieu puckered his lips weirdly and his mother looked back down at him, her mud-colored eyes heavy-lidded, "Mr. Lucien saved me! Don't be cross with him!"

Mathieu's mother's eyes widened at the words and she knelt down quickly so that she and Mathieu were eye-level and Lucien could barely catch her words they were so quick and rushed, "Saved you? Mathieu Lucius Bellamont, what on Mundus have you done now!?"

It was then that Lucien realized that Mathieu still had the basket he had stolen from the highwayman in his arms and he raised it higher. His mother seemed to have just noticed it as well, and she furrowed her brow,

"Mathieu, what…"

Mathieu's shoulders tensed and he looked his mother straight in the eye. Lucien was slightly unnerved, for Mathieu had the most piercing, haunted stare he had ever seen. They were the kind of eyes you got when you had a burden on your shoulder your whole life and Lucien paled as he had a kind of revelation,

They were the eyes of an abused child. They were his _own _eyes.

"I stole this basket from a highwayman and he… he chased me through the forest with his sharp claws then we ran into Mr. Lucien and he saved me. He killed the highwayman 'cause the highwayman tried to kill me!"

Mathieu's mother's shoulders tensed rigidly and she rose from her knelt position, sighing with exasperation. She turned to Lucien and it was then that Lucien noticed the purple bruise that had blossomed on her left cheek and Lucien remembered Mathieu's words when they'd met on the Blue Road,

"_My name's Mathieu! Mathieu Bellamont! I'm from Anvil, you know, but me mum wanted to visit the Nibenay Basin to… y'know…"_

"_Get away from me dad… ta get away from all that... y'know…"_

Lucien's expression hardened and he stared at the ghastly bruise as if he had found a piece of gum on the bottom of his boot. Yes, he knew full well what Mathieu meant by it. And he took Mathieu's mother's hand as he stretched it out and shook it.

"Aurelia Bellamont." She said shortly, looking Lucien in the eye, observing him.

"Lucien Lachance." He let go of her hand and Mathieu looked between the two, as if they'd started yelling at each other. Or were about too. Lucien felt a stab of pity for the young boy, he'd probably witnessed his parents yelling at each other countless times, and was probably even afraid of the noise it caused.

"Thank you for keeping him safe." Aurelia Bellamont bit her lip and drew a straight line in the ground with her feet. Somewhere behind her, the current of the river made a soft swooshing sound and Lucien watched her as she swallowed her obvious pride. But Aurelia's expression turned dark,

"I suppose you will want something in return, Lachance?" Lucien and Mathieu's eyes widened and they both stared at the dark-haired woman. It was here, that Lucien knew he was wrong about her contrast with his own mother. His mother, Lettie LaCroix, would never have said those words with such contempt in her voice, nor would she have glared at her son's savior.

It was also here, that Lucien's pity for Mathieu deepened into a never ending maelstrom. Seeing that Lucien was quite taken aback by her behavior, Aurelia narrowed her eyes,

"Your eyes say that you want something. You're no better than the highwayman that you killed if you plan on taking something from us… can't you see that we are poor!?" She gestured toward her and Mathieu's ragged clothes, and Lucien's shoulders became rigid.

"And you," Aurelia looked him up and down, taking in his aristocratic appearance. "You're a nobleman, but you're like all of those assholes. Greedy and selfish."

Mathieu's mouth was gaping in horror at his mother and Lucien had guessed he had never seen her so angry in his life. Lucien stared at Aurelia as she continued her insane ranting and after a moment that seemed to take an era, he yelled,

"_Enough!"_

Aurelia stopped, immediately and cowered, her mud-colored eyes opened in unseeing horror and she fell backwards onto the ground, curling into the fetal position, arms gripping her shoulders as she blanched. Mathieu and Lucien quickly ran towards her and Lucien caught her muttering,

"No… don't…. stop it! Leave Mathieu alone… I'm sorry… stop Arcady… stop."

Lucien glanced at Mathieu, who was cradling his mother's head in his arms, whispering, singing almost,

"Shh… quiet mommy… I'm here, it's me, Mathieu, your son… I'm here." Mathieu looked up at Lucien, Lucien's own pity reflected in Mathieu's mud-colored eyes. Mathieu smiled at him and gestured towards a wagon that was hitched to three horses. A white horse, a chestnut horse and the pretty palomino that Mathieu had promised him.

"Go, take the palomino, I can care for my mum." Lucien nodded, frowning slightly as he rose from his hovering position over Aurelia and spoke,

"I wish you the best, Mathieu. I know what it's like."

Mathieu's tan face paled, but he jerked his head, the premature lines on his face showing more greatly than before. Mud-colored eyes bored into Lucien's back as Lucien strode towards the palomino and mounted it.

And Lucien galloped away from the Nibenay Basin and back into the sea of trees, towards the Blue Road.

"I hope we meet again, Mr. Lucien." Mathieu whispered, cradling his mother's face in his arms, singing a soft lullaby to her.

"I really do."

---X---X---X---X---X---X---X---

Lucien was greatly unnerved as he and the palomino edged along the Blue Road. Well, he was at least happy to see the snow-capped trees thin away as he approached the Imperial City but… still… Aurelia Bellamont's outburst was just… Lucien shuddered and tugged on the palomino's reins a bit, kicking her into a canter.

Even his mother, Lucas LaCroix's at least, was calm and unbroken by the many things Erik LaCroix had done to her. And that was many things, many dark things. But she had always remained calm and collected under pressure and not once had Lucien ever seen Lettie LaCroix nee Brelleg snapped. He supposed that was a good thing.

Lucien cocked his head to look up at the cloudy, whitening sky; it would snow again, like it had when he'd murdered his father two days ago.

"_That was on a Morndas… right?" _Lucien rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. It always bothered him when he didn't know what day it was, even more so than when he had to go and ask someone and they would snap the reply back at him like he was stupid. Lucien chuckled darkly as he reached the Imperial City's outer walls and trotted around to look for the Chestnut Handy Stables.

"_So," _Lucien dismounted the palomino, taking in the overshadowing and looming walls of the Imperial City hungrily.

"_It was on the eighteenth of Sun's Dusk that I first murdered for the Dark Brotherhood. It was then that Anya Atius died."_

---X---X---X---X---X---X---

**Yikes! This chapter took a long time! I rewrote like... seven times! It originally would've been longer but I couldn't keep you guys waiting! Anyway, next chapter will be the end of Anya Atius and Lucien's induction into the Dark Brotherhood! So, get ready for some action! Honestly, this chapter is just plot and foreshadowing.**

**REFERENCES**

**Aurelia Bellamont/Lettie Brelleg contrast - The contrast between Aurelia Bellamont and Lettie Brelleg is meant as a sort of foreshadowing device. To show Lucien's own longing for his own mother. And perhaps a quiet saying of jealousy for Mathieu.**

**Arcady Bellamont- This is Mathieu's father, if you must know. He's mentioned in a single line. When Aurelia is madly muttering.**

**Aurelia's Madness- The common symptoms of an abused wife.**


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